


this is where we start again

by a_thousand_more



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_thousand_more/pseuds/a_thousand_more
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: Emma Swan gave up her son 10 years ago. When he suddenly reappears needing her help, she hires an attorney to help her fight for custody, but Killian Jones may be more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm new to the OUAT fandom and CaptainSwan, but been working on this piece for a while. I wanted to delay posting until I'm further into the story, but I'm expecting my first baby this spring, so figured I better get a move on before the little lady arrives! 
> 
> NOTE: If you are a Regina lover, you may not love this fic. She is S1 Evil Regina here, but placed in a non-magic AU. The Regina in this story does not reflect my personal views on the character! I love Regina, but she is not a good person in this fic.

_Prologue_

 

            Emma Swan paced the length of David’s apartment, desperately wishing she could kick some of Mary Margaret’s shabby chic furniture and relieve a bit of her anger and distress. She felt her brother’s eyes on her, watching her like she was some sort of dangerous creature that needed to be dealt with carefully, and she wondered if there was _any_ chance he and his wife stocked anything stronger than wine in their kitchen.

            “Would you sit?” David finally asked her, with just a note of humoured exasperation. “You’re going to wear holes in my floor.”

            Emma ignored him completely as she continued to pace. “What am I going to _do_ , David?” she moaned. “I told him I’m going to hire a lawyer. Why would I say that? I can’t afford a lawyer! Have you seen what they charge?” she asked incredulously. “How does anyone even sleep at night charging rates like $250 an hour?”

            “Well, law school _is_ pretty expensive,” Mary Margaret chimed in reasonably. Emma shot her a dirty look in response, earning herself a glare from David. “Right, sorry, not helping,” Mary Margaret acknowledged sheepishly. “More tea, Emma?”

            It would be so very easy to snap at the woman. She didn’t want more tea, for God’s sake, but with the warning still lurking in David’s eyes, Emma forced herself to take a deep breath and attempt something approximating a smile. It was thin, she was sure, but hey, at least she tried. “No, thank you,” she managed.

            “I’ll leave you two alone then,” her sister-in-law offered, and Emma heard her whisper quietly to David before slipping out of the room.

            “You know she’s just not sure what to say,” David chided as he moved to sit on the couch in front of where Emma was still pacing anxiously.

            “I know that, but she’s always so damn…cheerful. Isn’t she ever pissed off?” she asked irritably, even as she did feel a little ashamed of herself for being so impatient with the woman. Mary Margaret was wonderful, and perfect for David, and sometimes it made Emma a little sick to see the two of them together. But she made David happy, and that was really all that mattered to Emma. The two of them couldn’t be more different, though, and it sometimes left things a bit strained when Emma’s cynicism and sarcasm clashed with Mary Margaret’s incessant cheer and optimism.

            “Look, she’s no happier than I am about what’s happening with Henry,” David assured her. “We’re both pissed off, and we’re on your side, okay? Just try to remember that before you take her head off.”

            Chastened, Emma deflated a little and let herself collapse onto the worn sofa next to him. “I know,” she grumbled quietly. “I just…I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, hating how helpless and weak she sounded. This wasn’t the person she wanted to be, crawling to her brother for help she was pretty sure she hadn’t ever really earned. David had been looking out for her since she was a scared, screwed-up fourteen-year old, and he’d never stopped even when she tried her best to push him away. “I’m trying to pick up more work,” she continued, “but then how’s that going to look if I ever do find an attorney I can afford? It’s not really the most stable line of work. How could I take care of a kid when I’m doing all night stakeouts every day of the week?”

            “Emma, take a breath,” David insisted. “You’re getting ahead of yourself here. First things first. Let’s figure out this lawyer situation.”

            “But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I just don’t have the money. You know I’m doing fine,” she assured him. “I can pay my bills and take care of myself, but I don’t have thousands saved up for a rainy day. And that’s what this would cost. Child custody – it isn’t cheap. And it would be a lot of hours.”

            “Just listen to me for a minute,” David chided her. “One of the vets hired an attorney a year or so ago when he was having a custody dispute with his ex-wife. He really recommended the guy and assured me he’s reasonable as far as lawyers go. And I know, that’s not saying a lot,” he cut her off before she could protest. He met her eyes with a level gaze and took a deep breath. “Mary Margaret and I have been talking.”

            “David, no,” she shook her head, immediately guessing where he was going with that. There was no way she could accept money from him, even for something this important. She had worked so hard for everything she had, this little piece of independence and self-sufficiency after a lifetime of depending on people who only let her down in the end. She’d never minded her financial situation, and she was immensely proud of everything she’d earned. A place of her own, a car that worked and got her where she needed to be, food on the table…it was all someone like Emma could ask for, and she’d done it all herself, just as she always wanted. Accepting money from David was admitting defeat, admitting she’d once again fallen short of who and what she should be by now.

            “Stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me, Em,” David demanded, frustration creeping into his voice. “We’re family. That kid is my nephew. You always take care of yourself, you always go off and do everything on your own. And I get that,” he assured her. “I know why you feel like it has to be that way, but it’s not just about _you_ anymore,” he told her pointedly. “We have the money saved up. If it will make you feel better, we can call it a loan. You can pay me back every dollar if you insist on it, but please at least consider this. For Henry.”

            It was a cheap shot, throwing in her son’s name, but it had the desired effect. The fight in her immediately died a little, the reminder of her son – a kid who _needed_ her – poking a hole in all her arguments. Tears stung her eyes, but she fought the urge to let them fall. “I can’t ask you to do that,” she whispered. “This is my mess, David. I’m the one who…it was my choice to-”

            “Stop it,” he commanded, his voice firm but gentle. “We’re not talking about this again. You did what you had to do. I’ve never blamed you for that and I never will. But things are a lot different now than they were ten years ago.”

            Sometimes, Emma wasn’t so sure about that. She might have a job and an apartment and something resembling a family, but some days she still felt like that scared teenage girl staring at the second line on a pregnancy test and wondering how the hell she had gotten here. But one thing _was_ different now: Henry. He needed her, he _wanted_ her, and now that she had seen him and spoken to him and hugged him close, there was no way in hell she was letting him go again. As much as she hated to take money from David, as much as that defied every instinct within her, she knew deep down that she had to do it.

            “Are you sure?” she asked him. “You really want to help me with this?”

            “Of course I’m sure,” he answered softly. “In fact, I’ve already written the check. And it’s made out to you, so you can meet this guy and see if you like him, but if not, you keep looking, okay?”

            A surge of tenderness sent her reaching for David for a rare hug. She wasn’t usually one for overt physical affection, but this time, the occasion called for it. “Thank you,” she breathed into his shoulder as he squeezed her tight. She had never quite understood what she had done to deserve someone like David in her life after bouncing from home to home and never finding anyone who actually _wanted_ to be her family. David and his mother, Ruth, had always been different, had always cared about her, and in return, she doubted them and took them for granted, pushing them away time and time again. But they kept on loving her anyway, forgiving her no matter what she put them through. She had never been more grateful for his persistence as she was now, though, and she made a silent vow to be better for him, to make more of an effort with his wife, to be the kind of sister David really deserved to have.

            “You can thank me by introducing me to my nephew,” he said as he released her.

            “I really hope I can do that someday,” she agreed, wiping uselessly at the tears in her eyes.

            “You will,” he told her confidently. “I’m sure of that.”

            Emma took a deep breath and tried to force a brave smile. “All right. So what’s this guy’s name?”

            David reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card and glancing at it once before handing it over. “Killian Jones.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I forgot to mention last time, the title is from "Come to Me" by the Goo Goo Dolls!   
> WARNING: Mentions of child abuse in this chapter
> 
> Also, I would like to add, I am actually a lawyer, but not this type of lawyer and not in Maine. I started out doing a ton of research for utmost accuracy, but eventually decided to opt for a little creative license instead of complete, to-the-letter legal accuracy. I'm striving for realism, but trying not to get too bogged down in the legal details and the endless research I could be doing!

Chapter One

 

            Emma stood outside the entrance to the small office building and stared at the small nameplate nailed to the wall. _Killian Jones, Esq._ it read, and it was nothing too fancy or posh, but it still made Emma feel so nervous and out of place. She had debated all morning whether she could really do this, and by the time she had finally settled on an outfit that seemed even remotely appropriate for meeting an attorney, she felt panicked and guilty and overwhelmed.

            This wasn’t the kind of place she could afford. The lawyers she could hire were usually more the court-appointed type, or the ones that had taken a few tries to pass the bar and worked out of some small office behind a diner or something. She certainly wasn’t the kind of person who hired lawyers who came highly recommended by anyone – especially the vets David worked with, but then, Henry couldn’t afford her hiring the kind of attorney that _did_ actually fit in her budget. It stung to the core accepting David’s check, but all she had to do was think of that messy mop of brown hair and those sweet, innocent, imploring eyes to remember why she had to do this.

            Henry was so much more important than her pride.

            Forcing herself to think of those little arms wrapping around her in a desperate hug, she took a deep breath and stepped into the office.

            The waiting area was small, and she noticed immediately there was no receptionist. A small bell above the door rang as she walked in, and she quickly surveyed her surroundings and breathed a small sigh of relief that the office was tidy but rather plain. The chairs looked worn but comfortable, probably bought second-hand, and she took a seat and adjusted her blouse to make sure she at least looked presentable. Most of her wardrobe was hardly suited for important meetings, but she’d pulled together a pair of black pants and a simple blouse that looked professional enough. Tracking down bail jumpers usually called for outfits a bit more revealing than this, and her daily life didn’t often call for anything beyond jeans and t-shirts. It wasn’t like she had anticipated needing to do anything like this, but then, Henry was just about the last thing she expected to pop up in her life.

            She heard shuffling behind the closed door to her right and tried to take a few more deep breaths to compose herself before the lawyer came to retrieve her. She had really hoped never to need an attorney again, after her last experience with one. Once more, she thought about bolting and just going home, forgetting all about this crazy mission and _Operation Cobra_ and the insane notion that she had any business being a mother. Killian Jones was going to look at her with pity, or maybe scorn, when she told him why she was here. She’d done enough online research to know what she was asking for was extraordinary, and she had enough sense to know _she_ was probably the wrong person to be asking for it. She signed away her rights to care about Henry, her rights to be a part of his life, and she could already imagine the contempt on the lawyer’s face when she explained all of her mistakes. He would think her an idiot for even attempting this.

But it didn’t matter what he said about her. It _couldn’t_. Now was not the time for her to worry about what people thought of her or get her feelings hurt by the scorn of one more person in a lifetime of judgment. She couldn’t care what this man thought of her, so long as she could convince him to help her, to help _them_.

            “Ms. Swan?” a man’s deep voice called from her right. She looked up in surprise to see a man not much older than she standing waiting in front of the office door. She’d expected a yuppie in a three-piece suit, but Mr. Jones didn’t really meet any of her expectations. He wasn’t wearing a suit at all, just slacks and a dark shirt with one button undone at the top, and he wore some scruff around his face along with an earring in one ear. Wel, perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all, if her lawyer wasn’t some stuffy rich guy.

            “That’s me,” she confirmed, rising to follow him into his office.

            “Afternoon,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Make yourself comfortable, please,”

he offered, and it was only then that she detected the lilting accent, something not quite British, Irish perhaps? His office was as tidy as the waiting area, but the furniture in here was a bit nicer, all strong, sturdy wood in deep colours. He had a neat stack of books carefully lined up in the bookselves behind him, and she noticed a few mementos – mostly of the nautical sort – on display on the walls and on his desk. “Up to your standards?” he raised an eyebrow, and she blushed as she realised she’d been caught examining his office. It was a reflex, really, both from childhood and her line of work, but she really ought to be less obvious about it.

            “Sorry,” she murmured as she took the offered seat. “I’m…a bit nervous,” she confessed.

            “Quite all right,” he assured her kindly. “These meetings can be a bit nerve wracking. I can promise you, though, I’m just here to learn about your case for today, and we’ll decide together if we ought to proceed. Acceptable?”

            “Yes,” she nodded quickly.

            He chuckled, just a little, and she wondered what had been funny. “Right, then. I’m Killian Jones,” he introduced himself. “I work for myself here, and as you can see, it’s a small operation. I’m happy to discuss my qualifications with you, if you would like, or if you would prefer, we can simply talk about the details of your case.”

            She nodded again, not particularly interested in hearing about where he went to school or when he’d passed the bar. She only wanted to know if she had a case at all, if there was any chance he could – or would – help her. “I don’t care about any of that,” she told him honestly. “I just want to know if I can get my son back.”

            Emma thought she saw something dark flicker across his face. The openness in his expression and his pleasant demeanour suddenly turned a bit cold, and he frowned as he sat back in his chair. “I see,” he managed, somehow making those two innocent words sound almost like an accusation. “Was he taken by CPS?”

            Emma blinked in surprise, then realised what he must have thought. “No,” she assured him quickly. “No, it’s not like that. I…gave him up. Right after he was born. I placed him for adoption. He’s ten now.”

            He softened once more, now that she was not in fact a child abuser, but she still didn’t like his expression. He looked up at her with startlingly blue eyes, filled with something that looked entirely too much like pity for her tastes.

            “Ms. Swan,” he began carefully.

            “Emma,” she corrected again forcefully. “You don’t have to….just call me Emma, please.”

            “Emma, then,” he nodded. “I’m afraid, Emma, and that adoptions are terribly hard to undo. Especially one that occurred ten years ago. The grounds for reversal are very narrow, and your opportunities to challenge the adoption passed years ago,” he explained, his tone soft and gentle. Perhaps he was trying to let her down easy, but it only served to piss her off. She wasn’t a child, and she’d never been treated like one in her life anyway. She really didn’t need him to condescend to her, to act as if she had no clue what she was getting herself into here.

            “I know that,” she snapped. “And please don’t talk down to me. I know that I gave up all my rights to him ten years ago. I knew it couldn’t be revoked. But _he_ found _me_ , I didn’t go looking for him.”

            “I’m afraid that doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, not at all fazed by her tone. “It’s not uncommon for adopted children to go looking for their biological parents, but adoption is a permanent situation, and after ten years, there’s very little chance that anything could be done to change the situation. Now, if the adoptive parents were agreeable to some sort of visitation, we could perhaps work on an arrangement. Open adoptions are becoming-”

            “Parent,” she cut him off. “He only has an adoptive mother. And I’m not interested in working out an ‘arrangement.’ I want Henry with me. Permanently.”

            “I see,” he answered, and she could see his interest waning, his patience for this – for her – growing thin. Desperate, she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, immediately pulling up her photos.

            “This is Henry,” she told him, showing him the first photo of the two of them together. It had taken Henry’s begging to get her to smile along with him as they snapped a selfie, but she was quickly finding herself rather helpless when it came to this kid that had shown up on her doorstep one day out of the blue. He was sweet and earnest and adorable, and she could clearly see bits of Neal in him, but also bits of herself. He was, miraculously, an open and loving kid, not the closed off shell she had been by about his age, and it wasn’t hard to love him. She had spent so many nights in the last ten years wondering what he looked like, wondering who he’d become, and now she knew and it was better than anything she could have imagined for any kid _she_ had brought into this world.

            “He’s a cute lad, Emma, but-”

            She swiped to the next photo and watched the man’s face fall and eyes darken once more. “ _I’m_ not the one who hurt him,” she couldn’t stop herself from saying. “This is why he found me. His adoptive mother is doing this to him. She’s been doing it for years. And before you ask, I didn’t believe him at first. I thought he might just be a troubled kid with a big imagination. I knew he might have thought about me and wanted to meet me, and I thought maybe he made up some story to get me to pay attention to him. But he isn’t doing this to himself, Mr. Jones, and I don’t think any other kids could be doing it, either.”

            “It’s Killian,” he told her softly, “and aye, I’m fairly certain that’s an adult’s handiwork.”

            To her surprise, he spoke as if he knew. She hated to be relieved by that, but for Henry’s sake, she was.

            “Do you have many more of these?” he inquired.

            “Too many. He’s been sneaking off to see me for weeks. He’s hardly showed up once without a new bruise or mark on him. I’ve taken pictures of all of them. I’ve told him he can’t meet me anymore right now. I’m afraid of what she’ll do if she catches him, but he’s a smart kid. He set up an e-mail account he only uses at school so she won’t catch on. He’s been e-mailing me every night to check in, so I know he’s all right.”

            “Clever,” he smiled sadly, and she knew the feeling. She was proud of Henry for figuring out what to do to protect himself, but she hated that her ten-year old needed to know such things at all. “May I?” he asked, geturing to the phone. She handed it over, allowing him to swipe through her documentation of the injuries and bruises Henry had shown up with at their meeting spot. His expression seemed to darken at each new photo, and she was glad that at least he seemed to take this seriously, that he cared that her son was being hurt by the one person in this world who was supposed to protect him. He sighed wearily as he returned the phone, all hints of pleasantry and charm now evaporated from his features. “There will be a clear case to remove him from her custody, if we can prove she did this. I don’t suppose you know if there’s been any other documentation? Anyone else the lad might have confided in prior to seeking you out?”

            She shook her head, trying very hard not to let herself cry as she thought of how long her kid had been enduring this without anyone to help him. “She’s the mayor of this small town called Storybrooke. Everyone Henry has gone to is either too brainwashed or too scared to do anything about her. It’s why he thought to look for me at all.” The familiar wave of despair washed over her as she once again thought about what it taken Henry to seek her out. He had tried so many people first, and it was what she had wanted, it was what she agreed to when she signed the papers, but it still hurt that _her_ son had to lose his faith in everyone around him before he even thought about the woman that had given birth to him.

            “I’m sorry, love,” Killian said earnestly. “I have tissues, if you need them. I know this can’t be easy to talk about.”

            “I don’t care if it’s easy. I want Henry safe,” she answered vehemently.

            “Aye,” he agreed. “And I’ll help you with that if I can. But Emma, I do need you to be prepared, if we take this on, it won’t be easy. A young boy, curious about where he came from, no concrete documentation of abuse – I know,” he stopped her as she tried to protest, “the pictures help, and it was bloody smart of you to take them. Hopefully a court would believe Henry if he was willing to talk about what his adoptive mother has done to him, but there will be reports, investigations. It won’t be easy on him,” he advised seriously. “Or you.”

            “I don’t _care_ ,” she insisted again.

            “You ought to, love. I know you want your boy safe, but they’ll thoroughly investigate you as well. I would never judge a mother for making the decision she thinks best for her child, but they will ask, and you will have to talk about why you chose not to raise him yourself. The court isn’t in the habit of giving children back to the people who chose to give them away. Are you prepared to deal with that?”

            This time she couldn’t help the stray tears that leaked down her cheeks as she remembered giving birth to that small infant inside a jail in Phoenix. She remembered wanting to hold him, wanting so desperately to see him but knowing she could never go through with letting him go if she did. She heard his cries and her body ached for him, all her instincts crying out for the child that had been hers, just hers, for all those months. He was the only person in her life who had ever truly wanted her and needed her and she was leaving him, just like everyone left her. “Henry told me he knows why I gave him up. He said…he said he knew I wanted to give him his best chance,” she managed, her voice shaking at the memory of that small, earnest face looking up at her with so much _hope_ , so much unearned _trust_. Part of it, she knew, was desperation, his need for someone, anyone to save him, but when he looked at her, she felt it, felt their connection. All those months he spent growing inside of her, so close to her heart, had bound them together forever. Ten years hadn’t managed to sever that bond, and she knew then that she would do anything for him. Including fight his evil adoptive mother for custody of him despite everything she had done, despite the fact that any court in Maine would probably laugh her out of the room for thinking she was actually a fit parent for sweet ten-year old kid. She took a deep breath and regained control of her emotions, looking into Killian’s eyes and trying to convey to him how deadly serious he was. “I did not give him up for this,” she said, gesturing to the phone. “I wasn’t ready to be a parent, I didn’t think he would have a good life with me. But I _never_ would have hurt him.”

            There was only a moment’s hesitation before he responded. “I believe you.”

            He said it with conviction, and Emma always knew when people were lying to her. Killian Jones wasn’t lying. He did believe her, and she settled back a little in her seat.

            “If you want me to handle your case, I must confess I’ll have to do some research. This isn’t exactly a common scenario in my field. And I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” he advised. “But I also don’t take abuse lightly, and I can promise I won’t give up until your lad is safe.”

            She noticed he didn’t promise Henry would be safe with _her_ , but she had known it might not be possible. She needed Henry to see him fight for her, the way very few people had ever fought for her, to prove to him that he was loved, that he wasn’t damaged, that he wasn’t beyond helping and saving. If she never got custody of him…well, perhaps safe was the best she could hope for. “I understand,” she agreed.

            “I do know that the first course of action is reporting this to Child Protective Services. They can arrange to interview Henry without notifying his mother. It’s often done at school, or another place the child feels safe. I do want to make you aware, though, if he’s deemed to be at great risk, there’s a good chance he’d be placed in emergency care. It’s not likely that will be with you, Emma.”

            Her stomach did a little flip flop. “He doesn’t have other family. There aren’t grandparents or aunts or uncles. Where would they send him?” she asked nervously.

            “It would like be an emergency foster home.”

            Emma snapped up straight. “No. Absolutely not,” she shook her head vehemently.

            “Emma, if the lad is unsafe in his home, it would be best for him to be removed. Attempting to establish custody rights for yourself after your parental rights have been terminated…it will be complicated. It will take time.”

            “My adoptive parents gave me back when I was three, and I spent the rest of my life in foster care, until I ran away when I was sixteen. That’s _not_ happening to my son.” She looked back to Killian with determination, trying to show him just how deadly serious she was about this.

            “I realise it isn’t ideal, but it wouldn’t have to be like that, Emma,” he assured her. “Emergency foster homes are used in situations like this, when the child is in risk of immediate harm but there’s no one else available to immediately assume custody.”

            “ _I’m_ available,” she argued. “I know I don’t have any rights to him, but biologically…”

            “The biology no longer matters when your rights have been terminated. They won’t immediately allow you to have custody without also investigating you and making sure that you’re a fit parent to take him in. I understand your reasoning, but the lad would have an active case with CPS and social workers checking on his welfare. He’ll have you – and me – looking out for him, to assure no harm comes to him.”

            Logically, she knew he was right. There had been no one who cared when her foster parents turned out to be the kind in it for the paycheck, or when they tossed her back into the system for every tiny mistake and disappointment. It would be different for Henry, who had someone fighting for him, someone who wanted him, someone who wasn’t about to let a single bruise go unnoticed. But it felt so much like failure to let him end up in foster care; the whole reason she had given him up in the first place was to give him a better life than she had.

            “It’s only a possibility, love,” Killian added as he clearly saw her struggling with the thought. “Even if they do substantiate the abuse, it might not be deemed serious enough yet to warrant emergency removal. I only want you to be prepared for all the possible outcomes.”

            “Okay,” she finally agreed. “So how does this work? What do I have to do?”

            Killian spent the next twenty minutes explaining their options for reporting the abuse to Child Protective Services and walking her through what would take plac when Henry was interviewed. She ached at the thought of the sweet kid she’d come to know having to talk about it with a stranger, without her there to assure him or promise that things were going to work out, but at least someone would know. And if Regina Mills had any idea what was good for her, she’d lay off Henry as soon as CPS got involved.

            “Do you have any further questions?” Killian asked when they’d finished.

            “I do,” she nodded. “I want you to tell me honestly. Do you think I have a chance? To get Henry back?”

            “As I said, Emma, I’m not going to make you any promises I can’t keep. I can’t tell you what a court is going to decide. But I do know that if you decide to hire me, I’m going to do everything within my power to first get Henry safe, and second, to return him to someone who will care for him the way a child deserves.”

            He meant all of it, Emma could tell, and her mind was made up. Suddenly accepting the check from David didn’t seem quite so terrible, if it afforded her the services of someone who actually seemed to care about Henry, someone who wouldn’t lie to her just to get her business. “I’d like to hire you,” she told him.

            “Give me just a moment, then, and I’ll draw up the necessary paperwork,” he smiled at her. “There’s coffee and tea, if you’d like. It’s in the kitchen, just down the hall. I share with the other offices in the building, but you’re welcome to help yourself.”

            Emma didn’t particularly want either, but it seemed wise to step out of the office for just a moment and give herself a chance to breathe before signing anything. Her heart was still racing at the idea of reporting the abuse to CPS, actually starting this process and suing Regina for custody of Henry. At the same time, she also knew for once, she was doing the right thing. The urge to run was real, to just escape all of this and pretend she’d never met her son again, but for once, the urge to stay was just as powerful. Because Henry needed her, and he wanted her, and nothing in her life had ever mattered more than making sure that he was safe and loved.

            She poured herself some coffee in a paper cup and then returned to Killian’s office just as he printed out a letter of engagement. It was only when he handed over the paper and grabbed her a pen that he pulled his left hand away from its place under the desk. She blinked a little in shock, surprised to see the slight sheen of his prosthetic hand. She took the pen quickly and began to sign, hoping he hadn’t seen her expression when she realised he was missing a limb, but the heat of his gaze on her and the way he quickly moved his arm again told her she was out of luck. Hot shame coursed through her veins as she tried to focus on the words of the agreement, but for once, she wasn’t worryig about just how much of David’s money she was committing to this. Should she apologise? Did she acknowledge that she’d noticed but assure him she didn’t care? She’d been so concerned about what he would think of her, then turned around and gave him cause to worry what _she_ was thinking of _him_.

            Well, two wounded souls, then. Perhaps this attorney really was a good match for her. She dropped the pen and smiled gently, hoping it conveyed both her embarrassment and her acceptance of the injury.

            “We’ll meet next week, then?” he proposed, clearly signalling that the matter was dropped.

            “This time is good for me,” she agreed.

            “I’ll see you then. Oh, and Emma?” he called after her just as she turned to walk away. “The question you asked me earlier, about your chances.”

            “Yeah?”

            “I just wanted to add…you don’t strike me as the type to fail at anything.”           

 

* * *

 

            “Bloody fuck,” Killian cursed under his breath as Emma Swan walked out of his office. He was glad to have no more meetings or appointments scheduled the rest of the afternoon, suddenly feeling the need to close up early and go home for a stiff drink.

            The consultation had been difficult for a number of reasons. It had been a long time since a case left him feeling the least bit rattled. His normal day-to-day business was usually navigating the messy waters of divorce with petty, feuding couples, and sometimes untangling the heart-wrenching but rarely truly tragic mess of custody agreements.

            But Emma was different. And Henry was different. The bruises Emma had showed him were going to haunt him tonight, reminding him of another boy in another country in another life. At least Henry hadn’t give up yet. It was a ray of hope for him that the lad hadn’t just accepted that this was his life, that his mother hurt him and there was nothing he could do about it. He had looked for help – probably looked quite hard for it, in fact – and that meant there was some fight in him. Killian suspected much more of that came from Emma Swan than she would ever guess. By the time Killian himself was ten, he had stopped believing that anyone cared about him, that anyone might actually swoop in to save him. He accepted that his father got drunk and hit him, and he might try his best to stay out of sight when his father was deep in the drink, but he certainly didn’t expect it to work every time. It wasn’t until he was thirteen and his father disappeared for good that he even realised it could be another way. It was Liam who spared him, Liam who returned from the Navy just to care for him and show him the way a real man behaved. For five glorious years, he’d known the true meaning of family. Liam supported him, encouraged him, and most importantly, never laid a hand on him in anger.

            He owed Liam now. During his brother’s life, he’d never had a chance to repay the kindness. In his memory, though, Killian could refuse to let another boy suffer. This business of his was hardly about saving children, but he’d be damned if he was about to let Emma Swan’s lad fall through the cracks like she had, like he would have if not for the love and protection of his brother. “I promise you that, brother,” he vowed gruffly.

            But there was more to this than just Henry. There was another boy Killian couldn’t help remembering now. He’d never even met the lad, only seen him in the rare pictures Milah shared with him in those rare quiet moments when they dared to daydream about a different life. He’d never known Bae, but he had still dreamed of helping Milah raise the boy. They had talked of running away, just the three of them, far from her manipulative, controlling husband. He was young and foolish and in love, and he wanted to be the man Liam had been, wanted to be a father figure to a boy in need. He had let himself believe Milah wanted that, too.

            That naïve belief kept him hanging on long enough to put Milah in danger, long enough to take Milah from her boy. He hadn’t just failed to rescue Bae; he’d stolen his mother from him. He tried not to think about Bae these days, tried not to let the guilt eat him alive. But Henry…Henry could be a chance for penance. If he could help spare this one child, perhaps he might finally lay to rest the guilt that had haunted him for years.

            Not that he could ever truly forget when his own bloody hand was forever a reminder of the day he’d lost Milah. He was accustomed to the prosthetic now and the stares it often earned him, and he had learned to mostly hide it from prospective clients, lest it frighten them away before he’d made them comfortable and proven his competence. It had been a mistake to let Emma see it today, with her as skittish as a stray to begin with, and he couldn’t deny that the look of startled surprise had cut him to the core.

            But it wasn’t because she was lovely, Killian told himself. He didn’t care about her opinion because her blonde hair looked so wonderfully touchable, or because the hint of green in her eyes was bewitching. He only wanted this case, wanted to help her. He didn’t actually care about her personal opinion of him, so long as she trusted his professional abilities. Because she was a _client_. A client whose case was going to be a huge challenge and could potentially earn him a lot of money, considering the hours he’d have to put into research and preparation. Yes, that was the real reason he had hidden his hand again.

            “Fuck,” he repeated again. He stared at the stack of files on his desk, files he ought to spend the day working on before he started on Emma’s case. But his hand was starting to ache now, and he knew he wouldn’t be getting Emma and Henry out of his mind for the rest of the day.

            Mind made up, he tidied up his desk and grabbed his briefcase to head home. He could research just as easily from his laptop in front of the television, and he could do so without the annoyance and discomfort of his prosthesis.

            Besides, there was rum at home.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Italics indicate a flashback. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Two

 

            _Emma took a deep breath and shivered a little against the cold wind blowing in from the sea as she gazed out over the small castle Henry loved so much. This place had become their hideout, their little refuge, for weeks’ worth of secret meetings. This was the place she had first truly connected with Henry…and the first place he had pulled back his sleeves and shown her what his ‘mother’ was doing to him. Her breath caught in her throat now as she once more went over what she had to say to him._

 

_She spent all night talking this over with David and Mary Margaret, and she knew she was doing the right thing – the only thing she could do if she was serious about getting custody of Henry. Legally, she wasn’t supposed to have any contact with him. She was advised by a social worker before he was born, and soon after he entered the world, she signed the paperwork severing any and all ties with him forever. It wasn’t her fault he had found her and sought her out, but continuing to meet him like this could easily chip away at any kind of case she could make for custody. She already had the meeting scheduled with a lawyer and the money from David in her purse, so now she had to do the second hardest thing she had ever done in her life and tell this sweet little boy she couldn’t see him anymore for a while._

_He was going to hate it. He had begged her that first day to believe him and not send him back to Regina. It had been hard then to let him go…infinitely harder now that she_ did _believe him and knew what happened when he went home at night. But there was too much at stake now for her to mess this up. She couldn’t wait for Regina to really hurt him before she did the right thing, and she could only pray that Henry would forgive her for this, that he would at least try to understand that she was doing this_ for _him._

 

            _Gathering up her courage, she climbed up to the top of the tower and sat down next to Henry. “Hey, Kid,” she greeted him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “It’s cold. Where’s your hat?”_

 

_He turned to her with a bright smile and a shrug. “Don’t remember.”_

 

_Emma wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in close, telling herself it was to keep him warm, not because she knew it was her last time to hold him for a while. “Everything okay today?” she asked quietly. Henry stiffened a little in her arms, and Emma clenched her eyes shut and once more prayed_ _for the strength to do this. “Henry,” she murmured._

_“I’m okay. But she got mad last night.”_

 

_“And did what?” she asked warily. She didn’t bother asking anymore what he could have done to provoke her ire; it seemed not to take much, and often it wasn’t even Henry who upset her. He was still the one who paid the price._

 

_Henry reached for his backpack and pulled out what looked like a very old-fashioned book. He flipped to the back and sniffled a little, and it broke Emma’s heart to hear him trying so hard not to cry in front of her. “She ripped out the pages,” he said mournfully._

 

_“Oh Kid,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry. Is this your favourite?”_

 

_“My teacher gave it to me,” he shrugged. “She said…it was a reminder that life would get better, if we just held onto hope. But my mom ripped up my favorite story.”_

 

_Emma could practically kill Regina for what she was doing to this kid. “How about I get you a new one?” she offered._

 

_“Really?”_

 

_“Really,” she nodded._

 

_“Maybe you could keep it? So that she won’t catch me? And we could read it together!” Henry suggested, his face instantly brightening at the thought._

 

_“About that, Henry,” she sighed, pulling him back close to her again. “I need to talk to you about something. And I need you to just listen to me, okay?” He nodded against her, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I can’t see you for a little while, Kid.”_

 

_“What?!” Henry cried in a panic. “Emma, no!”_

 

_“Henry, listen,” she pleaded. “This isn’t what I want. Not at all. I’d be here every day if I could be. But I’ve been looking into things, and I’m going to see a lawyer tomorrow about how I can get you away from your mom. If I’m going to do that, I need to make sure that_ I’m _doing what I should be doing. And I’m not supposed to see you, Kid. I gave up that right a long time ago, and I could get in a lot of trouble for coming to see you like this. Do you understand?”_

 

_“No, please!” he begged her. “You can’t go away, Emma! You can’t!”_

 

_“It’s just for a little while,” she promised. “I’m not going away forever.”_

 

_“Yes you are!” he cried. “You said you wouldn’t! You said you would help me! You can’t leave me with her! You don’t know what she-”_

 

_“I_ do _know, Henry. I do,” she vowed as she felt her heart break into a million pieces. Henry was never supposed to know this kind of pain, Henry was never supposed to live with the fear of abandoment as she had all her life. He was supposed to have a better life than she had, and God, she could kill Regina Mills for taking that away from him, for taking it away from Emma. “That’s why I have to go away for a bit,” she tried to reason with Henry. “Because I can’t risk it. I can’t risk_ you _. I’m going to go away for a bit, but I promise you, I’m going to be doing everything I can do to get you safe.”_

 

_“Emma,_ please _,” he pleaded again. “I don’t want you to go away!”_

 

_“I really don’t want that either, Kid. But your mom wouldn’t like it if she found out we were meeting like this, and I shouldn’t be seeing you without her permission.”_

 

_“But-”_

 

_“I’m not going to wait for her permission,” she cut him off before she could protest. “That’s why I’m going to the lawyer. We’re going to get a court to say I can see you, not her. But until they do that, Henry, I just can’t see you.”_

 

_The tears came harder then, and he couldn’t argue anymore through the sobbing. It hurt more than she could ever explain, but all she could do was hug him close and let him cry against her until he was thoroughly spent._ I should have kept you _, she thought miserably as she held the little body to her side._ I should have kept you safe _._

 

_“It’s going to be okay, Henry,” she tried to assure him when it was time for her to go. “We’re going to see each other really soon.”_

 

_“Do you promise?” he asked miserably._

 

_“I promise,” she vowed fiercely. “I’m going to fight for you, Kid. We’re going to make things better. I just need you to be brave a little while longer.”_

 

_It took everything in her not to just grab him and run, drive as far away from Storybrooke as she could go and never stop to look behind. For a wild moment she thought about it, about doing what she and Neal had talked about all those years ago and getting fake documents, changing their names, hiding_ _where Regina would never find them._

 

_But Henry deserved more than that. And if she was really going to be a mom, she had to start now by doing what was right for her kid. With one last lingering hug and a kiss to the top of his head, she left him there on the castle and walked alone back to her car._

 

* * *

 

            The memory of her last moments with Henry was fresh in her mind as Emma paced around the apartment, waiting for the tell-tale chime of her e-mail inbox on her laptop. Within two days of her meeting with Henry at the castle, she’d come home from work to find an e-mail waiting for her. She couldn’t help grinning at his ingenuity as he explained computer class in school, and that he’d made a new e-mail address so he could still talk to her. Technically, it was probably against the rules, too, but it wasn’t likely they’d get caught. Besides, it would at least keep her from going to bed every single night wondering if he was still okay. Leaving him left her so panicked that Regina would go too far and she would have no way of knowing, no one to let her know that he was hurt or worse. Having his daily check-ins was at least some reassurance that he was still intact.

 

            After she left Killian Jones’ office that first day, she had written Henry a quick e-mail to let him know about CPS. She didn’t want him completely blindsided when they came calling. As soon as he assured her that he understood and he would be all right, she had made the call. She insisted on remaining anonymous, but said she lived in the town and that Henry had confided in her and showed her the bruises and injuries herself. She made sure to emphasise her fear that Regina would retaliate if she knew Henry was talking, praying they would take her seriously and interview Henry without providing notification. Of course, she could have no assurance that the investigation would take place, and no one could follow up with her after they contacted Henry. But it had been several days now, and she felt certain that Henry would let her know as soon as it happened. All of his e-mails came around the same time – during his computer class – so for the third day in a row, she paced around the apartment and just waited for his report, hoping this would be the one to fill her in.

 

            Finally, near the end of his class time, she heard the ding. She raced back to her computer, tears filling her eyes as soon as she saw his name pop up in her inbox.

 

   _Emma,_

_I don’t have long to write because class is almost over. I was late because I was talking to a lady like you said I would. She was nice and I think she is going to help me. I’m kind of scared about mom finding out, but she said it would be ok. Does that mean I can see you soon? I hope so._

_\- Henry_

           

  

          Fresh tears filled her eyes at his sweet words, and she quickly wrote back, hoping she might be able to manage a response before he had to leave his class. She still didn’t know when she could see him again, but she was glad that the lady had been nice and voiced her confidence to Henry that he would be protected from Regina. In truth, she couldn’t help doubting that a little, knowing how many times the system had failed to protect her. But Henry had her, and if he breathed even a single word of Regina retaliating, she would be there so fast to whisk him away. Her heart still clenched at the idea of him being sent to foster care, but she didn’t mention that possibility, not wanting to scare him further. She quickly looked over the e-mail, ready to press ‘send,’ then decided to add one more line.

 

            _I miss you, Henry._

 

* * *

 

            One week after their first meeting, Emma arrived early to Killian Jones’ office feeling even more nervous than she had the first time. She and Henry had exchanged several more e-mails, and it was becoming abundantly clear that CPS didn’t plan to do anything quickly about Regina. That meant she needed to get serious about fighting for custody, and several late nights of internet research told her that was going to be an uphill battle. Even though Regina was abusive, CPS either hadn’t fully substantiated everything Henry told them or just didn’t find it serious enough to immediately remove him from the house. But Emma knew cruel parents too well, and a few weeks or months of counseling wasn’t going to be enough to make Henry safe at that house.

 

           Deep down, she had hoped this would be easy. She had hoped someone would see how bad it was for her son and take him out of there, and they would see that the logical place with him was with her. It was a foolish dream and she knew it, knew that no reasonable social worker or judge was going to look at Emma Swan and declare her a fit parent, but God, she had never wanted anything so badly. She _ached_ for Henry now, almost as badly as she had those first days and weeks after his birth when her body had mourned for the infant taken from her breast far too soon. Back then, she used to wake up at night to phantom cries, certain she was hearing her baby cry and that he needed her. No one told her that when she signed the papers, no one bothered to warn her that her body would physically hurt for him when he was no longer with her. She’d spent weeks, months, years telling herself she had done right by him, that someone else was there for him when he cried, and eventually she had gone on with her life. But now she woke again most nights, her son ten years old but still crying out for her. And now she knew. Now she knew that the woman who was supposed to be there for him was the one making him cry. She hurt all over again, and even though she had given up fairy tales at least two decades ago, she wanted Henry back so badly her brain played tricks on her. Some small part of her was convinced she could have him because she was his mother, because he was a part of her, because she held him near her heart for nine long months and would do anything to have him safe again in her embrace.

 

            But Henry was still with Regina. In the eyes of the law, she was nothing to Henry. Regina Mills was his true mother, and she was going to have to sue the woman for custody. It was hardly going to look good, a bail bonds person with a criminal history fighting the small town mayor for custody, and as she waited for Killian Jones at his office, she felt the old, familiar impulse to run. The self-doubt was like an old friend come to visit, quietly whispering insidious reminders in her ear. As she waited, she remembered signing the papers with trembling hands, remembered the words of the social worker who explained her rights and made sure she understood. _If you deserved him, you wouldn’t have done that,_ a voice reminded her. _Do you really think abandoning him is any better than abusing him?_

 

            Her feet itched to run, but all it took was a single flash of memory to stop her. Henry, crying in her arms at the castle. She made him a promise that day. She swore she was going to fight for him.

 

            And fight she would. She had no other choice.

 

            “Ms. Swan, good afternoon,” Killian greeted her as he swung the door open to his office and disrupted her painful thoughts. “I know, I know,” he cut her off before he could protest. “Come on in, _Emma_.”

 

            The man’s grin was very nearly flirtatious, and Emma tried very hard not to notice how incredibly attractive he was. The dark hair, the piercing blue eyes, the stupid accent…it was enough to undo any woman, but Emma was terrible at relationships anyway, and the _last_ person she should be thinking about like that was Killian Jones.

 

            His looks would just have to be a pleasant side benefit to this whole legal mess.

 

            “How are you this afternoon?” he asked her pleasantly as she took a seat across from him.

 

            “Fine,” she answered curtly.

 

            “I forgot to ask you the last time we met, what is it you do for a living?”

 

            “Is that relevant to my case?”

 

            “Well, it will be, at some point,” he nodded. “At the moment, I admit I was only making conversation.”

 

            “I’m a bail bonds person. But I’m not here to make conversation with you. I’m here to talk about my son.”

 

            Killian looked only slightly amused by her rebuff. “I apologise,” he told her. “We’ll be spending a good deal of time working together, I imagine, and I was only hoping to put you a little more at ease. You look as though you might bolt at any moment.”

 

            Emma shifted uncomfortably, frustrated that he read her so easily.

 

            “Any news from your boy?” he asked, politely changing the subject for her before she had to concoct a response.

 

            “CPS has talked to him, and I think they’re talking to Regina, but it’s frustrating,” she admitted. “I don’t think Henry knows all the details, and I don’t have any way of finding out what their plan is. I wanted him out of there,” she admitted, feeling a bit like a petulant child.

 

            Killian just smiled sadly and nodded. “In my experience, these things rarely move quickly.”

 

            “But she’s a monster,” Emma sighed. “And it’s killing me not to see him and see with my own eyes that he’s all right.”

 

            “I know, but you’re doing the right thing in staying away until I can get a court to grant you some rights to the boy. Which I think ought to be our first move. Now that there’s an open case with CPS calling his mother’s parenting into question, I believe there’s more room for us to argue that Henry ought to be allowed to see you. And besides,” he added, waggling his eyebrows mischievously, “it’s now in her best interest to appear reasonable. It looks suspicious if she insists on keeping Henry from you after he’s clearly expressed an interest in getting to know you.”

 

            Emma couldn’t help laughing a little at the look on his face, and he _did_ have a point. “You think she might agree to letting me see him?”

 

            “Aye,” he nodded. “It’s a calculated risk, tipping off our hand that you want to be involved in Henry’s life before we’ve gathered more evidence of her wrongdoing, but I imagine both you and Henry would feel better if you could see each other. It might also keep her on her best behaviour.”

 

            “But I gave away all my rights to see him. The agreement was no contact. Can I just undo that?” she asked uncertainly.

 

            “As you said, love, it’s Henry that came to you. _You_ did not initially break the agreement. Now we’re merely seeking to comply with the lad’s wishes,” he pointed out. “Closed adoptions are falling out of favour. It’s widely viewed now as unfair to children. They’ve a right to know where they came from.”

 

            _Jail,_ Emma thought bitterly, not at all sure that Henry would like hearing the real story of how his parents met and conceived him. He hadn’t asked much about his own history, probably still too enthralled with the idea of having a new person in his life who cared about him and wanted to protect him, but Killian’s words only reminded her that Henry _would_ ask someday. He would want to know who Emma really was, who his father was. Her heart quickened a little at the thought of Henry someday reaching out to Neal Cassidy, the man who betrayed her and left her to rot in jail.

 

            “Even if that’s not a pretty story?” she laughed humourlessly.

 

            Killian eyed her seriously for a moment. “Aye, even then,” he confirmed solemnly.

 

            Emma looked away, the heat of his scrutiny a little too much. She was thinking of her own parents now and what she would do if she ever met them. She’d tried over the years to find out anything she could about the people who dumped her by the side of the road, but she’d never discovered anything of real value. She still had the blanket she was wrapped up in, her name carefully and lovingly embroidered around the edge. It still drove her mad sometimes that they had apparently cared enough to give her a name, to wrap her in something so lovely and soft, but not enough to keep her, not even enough to drop her at a hospital where they could be sure she lived through the night. What kind of people did that? Would she even want to know now? If she had the chance, would she want to know the truth about where she’d come from?

 

            She wasn’t so sure. And a big part of her wasn’t even sure she would tell Henry the truth about his own beginnings if he asked. She loved him too much to burden him with that knowledge for the rest of his life.

 

            Attempting to shake those dark thoughts from her mind, she focused on the issue at hand. “So how would we do that, exactly?”

 

            “Well,” he began as he leaned back comfortably in his chair. “We would have a couple of options. We could formally petition a court for visitation rights. Might be a bit tricky, as you’ve technically severed your ties to Henry. With an inquiry into Regina’s parenting, however, we might stand a chance.”

 

            Emma’s stomach churned a little at the thought of appearing in court already and trying to convince anyone she ought to have contact with Henry. After all, if they said no, it could put an end to all of this. “What’s our other choice?”

 

            “We contact Regina directly.”

 

            “You want _me_ to talk to Regina?” she asked incredulously.

 

            “At some point, I imagine you’ll have to,” he warned her. “But no, I’d feel much better if you’d allow me to draft a letter to her requesting that we work out a new agreement regarding contact. My suspicion is that she would respond through her own lawyer.”

 

            Emma frowned nervously and gazed down at the shoelace wrapped around her wrist. A familiar pain pierced her heart as she remembered another person she’d lost in her life, and she felt the panic crowding in as she imagined Regina’s rejection and Henry being taken away from her forever.

 

            “Emma?” Killian prodded gently when she didn’t respond.

 

            “What if she says no?”

 

            “Our next step is a custody battle anyway, love,” he reminded her. “It will only benefit us if Regina agrees to some contact, but if she doesn’t, it’s far from over. We’ll just move forward,” he assured her. “But I know it’s hard on you – and on Henry – to be apart. The decision is yours, Emma.”

   

         She thought of Henry’s e-mail, the hope it contained that he would see her again soon. The promise she made echoed in her head once more. _I’m going to fight for you._ “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s contact Regina.”

 

            He smiled at her in encouragement, and she couldn’t quite return the smile, but she did feel a bit buoyed by his optimism and determination. She was fighting for Henry, and Killian was going to fight for her. There weren’t many people in her life who had been so unfailingly on her side, and she could tell it was about more than the paycheck for him.

 

            They wrapped up the final details and confirmed another meeting in a few days, and then Emma headed home to get ready for a “date” with a bail jumper. As she dressed, she gazed down again at the shoelace she had worn for years now. For a while, it had been her memorial to Graham, a way to hold onto him in some small way. It had been David’s idea, when she was still in the depths of her depression, to find something of Graham’s that she could cling to and remind herself what he had wanted for her, what he had felt for her. As she pulled herself out of the mires of her depression, however, it had become a reminder to her that no one stayed. David didn’t know that part, of course, didn’t know that like her swan keychain, she wore it as a reminder to guard her heart.

 

            Perhaps it was time to let go now. Against all of her instincts, she had already let someone into her heart. And if she was truly going to fight for him, she couldn’t be afraid anymore. She couldn’t be so afraid of losing him that she ran away. She’d already been tempted so many times, but there was more at stake now than there had ever been. Someone counted on her now, someone needed her. With a deep breath, Emma untied the shoe lace. A hot tear dripped down her cheek, and she let it fall as she dropped the memento in her small jewelry box and closed the lid. “Goodbye, Graham,” she whispered.

 

 


End file.
